


Retribution

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [36]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Brief Violence, Bullying, Homophobia, M/M, One use of a homophobic slur, a little bit of unreliable narrator, because useless gays are useless, coming out in literally THE most aggressive way possible, emile and remy both interpret gay speechlessness as negative responses, fumbling middle school crushes, honestly i dont think you have to read the rest of this verse for this to make sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-18 19:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19964122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: How does the kind of person who wears flower crowns to school develop a crush on a juvenile delinquent?(All at once.)





	Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> for this prompt from a nonnie on tumblr:
> 
> "In LAOFT does Emilie get bullied for wearing skirts?"
> 
> Not for very long :)

Emile watched the other students go in and out of the building, trying to at least _contain_ the anxiety that he couldn’t seem to shake.

“It’s okay if you change your mind, sweetie,” said Mom, “And it’s okay if you _don’t_. Whatever you decide to do is the right thing,”

Emile blew out a long breath.

It would be fine. Maybe people would compliment him, and that would be great! Or maybe people would say nothing, and that would be fine.

And if people were mean, Mom said she would take care of it, and it was the last day of eighth grade anyway, so by the time school started up in the fall in a totally different building, everyone would have forgotten about it.

Right?

_Right_ , he thought, psyching himself up.

“I’m gonna go in!” he said firmly.

Mom smiled at him.

“Good for you, sugar. I hope you have a great day,”

Emile leaned across the dashboard to kiss her cheek, and then climbed out of the car.

His confidence waned a little when dozens of heads immediately turned his way, but Emile didn’t look too close at any of them. He kept his eyes firmly forward and carefully didn’t fiddle with the hem of his… dress.

Because he was wearing a dress, yellow and printed with a raised pattern of flowers and white shoes and he _loved_ it – he’d seen it on the hanger in the store and loved it so much his heart had trembled and he’d swallowed his nerves and asked Mom to buy it for him because he just couldn’t bear leaving without at least _asking_.

He hadn’t expected her to say yes – he definitely hadn’t expected her to say yes and let him – _encourage him_ to wear it to school.

And when he’d tried it on in the store, and then his room, and then this morning he’d been so happy he thought his heart would burst.

Emile still felt like his heart was going to burst – but it definitely wasn’t a super positive emotion at the moment.

He wasn’t looking at anyone else, didn’t wanna see their faces, but he could _feel_ them looking at him and he loved the dress, loved it so much, but he really, really wished he’d thought this through for like _five more minutes_.

He was so focused on not making eye contact with anyone that he kinda wasn’t really paying super close attention to where he was going, so, of course, he turned a corner and walked smack into someone.

“Aw, gee, shoot,” he said, stooping to help pick up the books he’d knocked out of the other kids hands, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going-”

He realized the other person was not actually helping him pick up the books, suddenly felt a little nauseous, and looked up.

Remy Adams was staring down at him with an expression that was mostly unreadable behind his dark glasses, but definitely surprised.

“What are you _wearing_?” he blurted, stunned.

Emile felt a lump in his throat.

Remy Adams was known for two things – his older brother Nate being the town go-to for moonshine, and having a hair-trigger for punching people in the face. Somehow, Emile didn’t think this was going to end well for him.

“It’s a dress,” he said, very quietly.

“I got that,” said Remy, and the faint bite of the laugh in his voice made Emile flinch.

Remy’s expression took on a startled tinge, and he opened his mouth to say something, but apparently one person breaking the bubble around Emile was enough that someone else was willing to make a move.

“What are you _wearing?”_ said Katie Kittle, and Emile thought that the baffled confusion in Remy’s voice had hurt, but Katie saying it through a disgusted sneer was infinitely worse.

“It’s my new dress,” he said, his voice barely a whisper through his closing up throat.

“Is that even allowed?”

“My mom said-”

Katie eyebrows flew up, looking suddenly taken aback but still pretty grossed out.

“You know just cuz you’re an only child doesn’t mean you have to let your momma dress you up like a girl,”

“I’m not dressed like a girl,” said Emile quietly, “I’m dressed like me,”

He could still feel everybody in the hallway’s eyes on him, and now it was impossible to ignore. He was starting to feel a bit like the walls were closing in.

Someone else broke the line of the crowd – Sam Faber, wearing an expression like a hawk about to dive at a rabbit, and Emile took a step back that did nothing but press his back against the lockers and corner him even worse.

“I think Katie’s right, that shouldn’t be allowed. It’s kinda weird for you to wear girl’s clothes in public, Picani,”

“They’re _not_ girl’s clothes, they’re _mine_ ,” he said, repeating the mantra his mother had told him when he’d worried about just this. It had been comforting up till now, but it came out sounding weak and embarrassingly small.

“Yeah, _your girls clothes_ ,” said Sam.

“I need to go to my locker,” Emile said weakly.

“You _need_ to go home and change, you freak-”

“ _Hey_ ,” snapped Remy, sudden and vicious. Emile lurched away from him.

“What?” said Sam, “I’m really not being a jerk here, it’s just indecent okay?”

“Bullshit, not being a jerk my ass,” said Remy.

Emile made a strangled noise, staring at Remy in surprise.

“I’m tryna _help him_ ,” said Sam, “I don’t know what exactly he expected to happen when he showed up to school dressed like a faggot-”

Remy lunged, and Emile startled, blinked, and there was a sharp _crack –_ when he opened his eyes, Sam was laying on the ground, clutching his freely bleeding nose.

“Say it again. I dare you,” spat Remy.

Sam sputtered, scrambling back.

“Jesus, you psycho-”

“I mean it, Faber, give me _any_ good reason to deck you again,”

“What the heck’s the _matter_ with you, I just meant everyone’s gonna think he’s gay!”

“I got no clue if Emile’s gay, but I sure as hell am. You wanna say to me what you just said to him?”

The whole hallway went dead silent.

Remy looked around the hall, and it seemed like he was trying to make deliberate, _aggressive_ eye contact with everyone all at once.

“Anybody else got problem with me and Picani?”

Nobody answered.

“Psycho,” Sam muttered again, and then flinched when Remy feinted throwing another punch.

More scattered muttering, but slowly the people in the hall started to turn away, dispersing. Katie scoffed, but she left too, and Sam clamored to his feet and fairly bolted.

Then it was just the two of them, standing to the side of the hall with a half-dozen foot radius around them. Remy had his back to Emile, and Emile cleared his throat quietly.

“Uh, th-thanks,”

Remy turned, and Emile’s whole chest gave a funny little flip.

Remy was grinning at him, lopsided and… kind of dashing and oh _no._

“No problem, babe,” he said, and Emile squeaked in response, “Definitely don’t have to thank me for stickin’ up for a boy pretty as you,”

Emile gave a nervous laugh and his chest gave another flip. And something else, sorta warm in the bottom of his ribs. For a person Emile had been just a tad afraid until five minutes ago, it was really sweet of Remy to try and joke to make him feel better.

“You good?” said Remy, a little more serious.

Emile nodded quickly.

“Good,” said Remy, grinning again, and oh _no_ , oh no, this was definitely not happening, get a _grip_.

“Also,” said Remy, lowering his glasses a bit so Emile got a glimpse of the most startlingly blue eyes he’d ever seen, “I _really_ like your dress,”

Emile tried to say “thanks” again, but what came out of his mouth probably wasn’t even recognizable as English, and Emile felt himself flush from his neckline to his forehead and bolted before he could embarrass himself any further.

He heard Remy chuckle softly as he walked away and _shoot_. Shoot shoot _shoot_ , oh gosh he was in trouble. Big, big trouble.

_Last day of school_ , he thought, a little hysterically, _It’ll be fine. Just a little crush – should be gone by the time school starts up again._

_It’ll be fine._

* * *

Remy winced, but he didn’t think Emile noticed, thank _god_ , because of course the first thing Remy did after coming out in the worst way possible was blatantly hit on the poor guy

Emile bolted, looking slightly nauseous, and Remy let out a mortified, slightly hysterical laugh and fought the urge to bury his face in his hands and groan in frustration.

_Great_ , he thought, _just great. See a pretty boy in a dress and lose your head completely. Way to go, Adams._

Remy watched Emile disappear around the corner, hoping the next time he saw him he’d be able to _not_ be totally obnoxious.

And if Remy spent the rest of the morning and afternoon daydreaming about daffodil-colored sundresses and the big brown eyes that had looked up at him and pretty much instantly stolen Remy’s heart, well – it wasn’t like teachers really expected him to pay attention most days anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm also [ ulipscomeinallsortsofcolors ](tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com) over on tumblr and if you @ me in your remile content i'll... probably do smth stupid like make a post about how generous you are but you should still do it


End file.
